In language that bridges the troubled history of the South and her own world as a bi-racial daughter, Trethewey brings a unique perspective to a black and white world, treading the years of state against state, slavery, the remnants of a bitter loss and the barriers constructed to a smoldering past:

“At the cross trussed like a Christmas tree,
a few men gathered, white as angels in their gowns.

It seemed the angels had gathered, white men in their gowns.
When they were done, they left quietly. No one came.”
(Incident)

Intimately aware of place – Mississippi - and the traditions of prejudice, the poet grows as an exotic flower between two worlds, accepting what the end will bring:

“Where the roads, buildings, and monuments
are named to honor the Confederacy,

where that old flag still hangs, I return
to Mississippi, the state that made a crime

As the poet’s words flow like the years of her history and an intimate awareness of place, Trethewey speaks in tongues of longing, of love for those who gave her life and in curiosity, that such a place in all its strange beauty should be the battleground of hatred and fear. History unfolds, yet she is not damaged by more than her share, a bright voice in a world trapped too long in black and white, now transfigured by language.